


Planting Season

by masi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2096490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masi/pseuds/masi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After graduation, Ushijima runs into Oikawa again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Planting Season

Ushijima runs into Oikawa again after graduation. It is the last day of March, the sun high in the sky, the temperature unseasonably and pleasantly warm, and here they are, meeting in front of a restroom again. The restroom is in the new shopping mall that has opened in Tohoku, not in the Sendai City Gymnasium, but the location does not make the unexpected meeting any more enjoyable.

Oikawa raises his eyebrows at Ushijima, mouth tightening for a second before the corners of his lips lift up into a fake smile. “Well,” Oikawa says, “aren’t you going to go inside?” He gestures to the door, which has a sign bearing the words: Men’s Toilet: Western-Style.

Ushijima considers leaving. His last meeting with Oikawa had not ended well. None of their meetings start or end well. And this isn’t the best place to voice the thoughts that have been germinating at the back of his mind recently. 

But then again, he does not want to make a second journey to the restrooms. His aunt is waiting for him, and the other toilets are far away. Thus resolved, he sets his jaw and steps firmly into the restroom, lets the door close behind him with a bang.

A second later, Oikawa follows him inside, and instead of going to the two stalls at the back, steps past him to the row of sparkling new urinals. He selects a urinal in the middle, unzips his pants. Then he turns his head, and there it is again, that familiar, infuriating smirk seen so often on the other side of the net. Ushijima has occasionally entertained thoughts of tossing a volleyball right at that face. He wants to look elsewhere, but for now he keeps his eyes trained firmly on Oikawa’s face because he does not want to be accused of-

“So, Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa says, tone light and carefree over the disgusting sound of him pissing in the urinal. “What a place to meet! To think you were the type who likes to hang out in malls. You can never really know a person, can you?”

“I’m not hanging out,” Ushijima says, crossing his arms. “And I told you not to call me that.”

Oikawa is still smirking. Ushijima catches sight of his own reflection in the mirrors above the sinks and realizes that he looks petulant and juvenile. Arms crossed, cheeks red like he is guilty of something. He has nothing to be ashamed of, he reminds himself, letting his arms fall back to his sides. This is a public restroom, so anyone from the public may use it without compunction. What a shame though, that this restroom has urinals. Not everyone is comfortable with using them.

“Really, Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa chides, “where are your manners? Staring at my ass while I am trying to piss.”

“I wasn’t staring at your ass,” Ushijima snaps, angry that he was accused of what he did not want to be accused of, and then further angry when he accidentally does look at Oikawa’s ass. 

He can’t help it. He didn’t get much of a chance to see it during official matches, but it looks very toned and nice in the videos Shiratorizawa has of past Inter-High and Spring High tournaments. And it looks great now, encased in the skinny black jeans Oikawa is wearing. It is too bad that a great ass cannot make up for a bad personality.

Ushijima really needs to piss himself, but he doesn’t want to go into the one unoccupied stall while Oikawa is still here, or use the urinals and be accused of staring at Oikawa’s dick, which is undoubtedly skinny, short, and subpar compared to Ushijima’s own.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Oikawa asks, making no moves to flush even though he has finished pissing.

Before Ushijima can reply, Oikawa says, “Oh, don’t tell me.” His tone is full of pseudo-sympathy. “You have to do Number Two and you’re too embarrassed because I’m here. Poor, poor Ushiwaka-chan. It knocks a man down a peg or two when they have to shit, right? They're not so high and mighty then. They can’t loom over other players, I mean, others in general when they’re shitting.”

Thankfully, two other guys enter the restroom at this point. Ushijima wasn’t sure what he would have done otherwise, and he has to keep a clean record so that he can be accepted into his university’s volleyball club as soon as the semester starts. It is time to put high school volleyball (and all the failures, small and big), along with his disappointment in Oikawa, behind him.

Oikawa gives him one more smug smile before finally zipping up his pants. He bounces a little on the ball of his left foot as he does, a movement that Ushijima finds oddly attractive. He can’t help looking again when Oikawa steps in front of the mirrors. 

The lights surrounding the mirrors are bright. Oikawa seems to be sparkling under them. His wavy brown hair looks very soft and nice.

Oikawa winks at him, and Ushijima turns away, angry with himself. Thankfully, the other two guys are too busy to pay any attention to them.

It is odd that Oikawa is still hanging around, but Ushijima can’t think about that now. He has been in this restroom for too long. His aunt is going to be upset. He needs to use one of the urinals and leave. 

He is about to walk over to a urinal when he hears a flushing sound come from the occupied stall. Then a little kid comes rushing out, hands held out in front of him. He stops in front of Oikawa, saying, “I’m done, Tooru.”

“Hey now,” Oikawa says, “what have I said about using my name so casually? Go wash your hands, quickly.”

The kid must be related to Oikawa. No wonder Oikawa was waiting. Ushijima remembers seeing the child before, the closely cropped black hair and the round face. He had come to one of the Inter-High games and was waving to Oikawa. 

After the kid has washed his hands and Oikawa is finally on his way out of the restroom, Ushijima hears the kid asking, “Is that your friend, Tooru?”

Oikawa sighs theatrically as he replies, “Your uncle has better taste than that, Takeru.”

***

Ushijima is only here at this shopping mall because his aunt promised that she would buy him a pair of new sneakers if he accompanied her and held her bags as she shopped. “Be a good boy,” she had said, “and I’ll buy you those ridiculously expensive shoes your mother said you’ve been bugging her about.” He needs those sneakers.

He has gone into three stores with her already, but when she steps into a maternity shop, he asks, “May I stand outside?” 

She laughs. “It’s just for a friend!” she says. “Though you could do with a baby cousin to soften you up, Wakatoshi.”

He looks at her. She shakes her head, her short hair bouncing around her face, pinches his cheek with her blunt nails. “You’re so cute when you get embarrassed!” she says. “Alrighty then, but don’t wander too far off. And keep my bags with you.”

He tightens his grip on the bags and walks over to the closest bench. He can’t wait for this excruciating trip to be over. Those new Adidas sneakers better be worth all this humiliation.

He is looking in the direction of the shoe store when he spots Takeru walking into a café in the line of stores across from him. Ushijima debates for a moment and then gets up. He can hide the bags underneath a table in that café. That would be less embarrassing than sitting here with them out in plain sight. And the café is not too far away from where his aunt is right now, so she shouldn’t mind. He will sit by the windows and keep an eye out for her. 

He walks into the café to find Oikawa surrounded by a group of young women. Oikawa is talking to them using his softest, nicest voice. He is all flirtatious smiles and lowered lids. A few of the fans are taking photos of him using their cellphones. Takeru is carrying two cups of milk bubble tea to an empty table by the windows. 

Ushijima frowns, annoyed about Oikawa’s careless behavior. Uncles should always set a good example for their nephews. He walks over to Takeru and sits down on the chair across from him. 

Takeru looks up, says, “Hey, you’re the guy from the restroom! ‘Sup?”

“I am Ushijima Wakatoshi,” Ushijima says, sliding his aunt’s shopping bags underneath the table. 

“Oh, Tooru said you were Ushiwaka-chan,” Takeru says. “Cool! You’re that famous Wing Spiker in my uncle’s volleyball magazines, Ushijima-san. But your face is always scribbled out, so I didn’t recognize you.” He begins to slurp his bubble tea loudly.

Ushijima is unsurprised to hear that Oikawa has scribbled out his face. How childish, but how like him. A man who refuses to tap into his true potential is a man who is capable of all manners of juvenile behavior. And now it may be too late for Oikawa Tooru. A seedling that has languished in barren land for too long may not take to different soil when replanted, no matter how excellent it was initially.

Ushijima still feels the need to ask, after Oikawa has said goodbye to his fans and come over to the table to protest about the seating arrangements, “Which university are you going to, Oikawa?”

“Takeru, how many times have I told you not to talk to strangers?” Oikawa says. He puts one hand on his hip. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

Ushijima presses, “Does the university have a volleyball club?”

“He’s not a stranger,” Takeru says. “He’s the guy the volleyball magazines call the Absolute Champion.”

Oikawa presents his back to Ushijima, protests, “How does that make him any less of a stranger?!”

“And you played volleyball with him, right?” Takeru glances at the second cup of tea. “Um, Tooru …”

“No.” Oikawa pulls over a chair from the next table, fastens his mouth to the straw sticking out of the bubble tea, and slurps even louder than his nephew. 

Takeru wrinkles his nose, says, “That was uncool.”

“Absolute Champions don’t drink bubble tea,” Oikawa replies.

Ushijima realizes that Takeru was trying to offer him the second cup. He is amazed at the generosity in this little kid. Takeru hasn’t inherited Oikawa’s looks, but thankfully he doesn’t have the bad personality either.

“I don’t drink bubble tea because of the tapioca seeds,” Ushijima tells Takeru, to put him at ease.

Takeru shrugs, pulls out a cellphone, and starts playing a game.

“You see, my dear nephew,” Oikawa says, waving a hand, “you should never search for role models in magazines. They use smoke and mirrors. This guy is just a robot who doesn’t know how to have fun. You have a proper role model right here.” He points to himself. 

Takeru doesn’t bother to look up. Ushijima glances out at the maternity store. His aunt is standing in line. There are five customers in front of her.

“You haven’t told me which university you’re going to, Oikawa,” he says.

“I’m sorry?” Oikawa blinks his beautiful, thick eyelashes at him. “Was I supposed to?”

“Yes, because I asked you. Why do you always make me repeat myself?”

“Why _do_ you repeat yourself, Ushiwaka-chan?” Oikawa replies. “What is it that you really want from me?” He pokes the tip of his tongue out of his mouth, and then, smiling, rolls his tongue out farther, slides it up his straw.

Ushijima looks around quickly, hoping no one saw. His aunt is still in the store, fourth in line. Takeru is hunched around his game, thumbs flying over the phone.

“Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa continues, and to Ushijima’s surprise, slides his foot right on top of his own. Curves his leg around, so that it is between Ushijima’s own, so that their calves are brushing against each other. “Ushi-chan,” Oikawa says, tone perfectly even, rubbing his ankle against Ushijima’s leg. “Waka-chan, Waka-Baka, Baka.”

Ushijima wants Oikawa to keep his foot there forever, but that would be a bad idea. It would result in great embarrassment for himself. With great regret, Ushijima pushes his chair back. 

He wants to be angry with Oikawa for flirting with those girls just five minutes ago and flirting with him now, but he is mostly just astounded. Maybe a little pleased. He wonders if Oikawa flirts with all of his opponents in this manner.

After Oikawa has moved his foot back and starts slurping his tea with a bored expression, after breathing is easy again, Ushijima thinks about what has been lingering in the back of his mind since the conclusion of Spring High. Those new ideas, taking root gradually but firmly, about teamwork, about what it means to be an ace, about how one’s team can become one’s family, about how two people can become so close that they become perfectly synchronized. 

When Takeru leaves the table to buy a cupcake for himself, Ushijima decides to seize the moment and say what has been on his mind. 

He clears his throat, waits for Oikawa to look at him, and then says, “I understand that you are angry with me, Oikawa. It was rude of me to tell your old team, your friends, that they were barren land, whether such a comparison was accurate or not. I am sorry for it. But I am not sorry for asking you to come to Shiratorizawa. You would have been excellent there. We would have been formidable. But not only that,” he glances at his hands, clenches them, “it would’ve been nice, receiving a toss from you.”

He has said too much, he knows. When he looks up, he finds Oikawa staring at him with wide eyes, those beautiful brown eyes. The pretty mouth is drawing into a tight, annoyed line. But Ushijima is glad he said his piece. It was something that needed to be voiced, the first part of it anyway, and he may be spending the rest of his life cringing in embarrassment, but at least it is over.

Oikawa looks away from Ushijima first, says to his nephew, who is just returning with a funfetti cupcake and looking gleeful, “Takeru, where were you when I needed you? Remember I told you to start filming whenever anyone of my opponents starts apologizing to me? We had this talk after that incident with Tobio-chan. How else is Iwa-chan going to believe me?” 

“But that’s so uncool,” Takeru protests.

Oikawa points a finger at Ushijima. His ears have turned red. “And this guy here is trying to be way too cool and mature. We aren’t university students yet. He reaaallly pisses me off. Be a good boy, Takeru, and get him a kid-sized milkshake.”

“But Tooru, I have frosting on my hands.” Takeru sits down. “Can’t you get it for him?”

Oikawa sighs, shakes his head. “Kids these days! They never listen to their elders. Alright, Ushiwaka-chan, wait here, I’ll get you one. You better be grateful.”

“Thank you,” Ushijima says. He gathers his aunt’s shopping bags together. “But I have to leave.” 

“Well, wait here with Takeru while I get myself another tea. I’ll be right back. Takeru, we have to go home soon. Only one more toy store, okay? Pick wisely.”

Ushijima doesn’t see why he has to babysit Takeru now, but he waits anyway while Oikawa goes up to the cash register. He turns to look out the window again. His aunt is getting her purchases rung up. 

Oikawa returns with another milk bubble tea and a stack of napkins. Ushijima stands up, says, “Nice meeting you, Takeru.”

“Yeah,” Takeru replies, smiling at him. “Hey! Are you going to be in any more magazines now that you’re in university?”

“I’ll be in even more magazines now,” Ushijima assures him. And then, inspired suddenly, says in his friendliest tone, “We can play a set next time we meet. I’ll give you a few pointers.”

“Okay, I’ll give you a few pointers too,” Takeru replies, and then gives him a cheeky grin.

Ushijima can see the family resemblance now. He turns to nod goodbye to Oikawa only to realize that he is being watched again with an even more eerie intensity. He has seen that look on Oikawa’s face before, occasionally in those videos of Seijou matches, but he can’t remember being on the receiving end of them before. He must have been though. Oikawa analyzes all of his opponents very carefully.

“Goodbye,” Ushijima says. It is too bad Oikawa did not divulge any information about his future plans, whether he is going to play volleyball or not, but at least now they can put their past behind them.

Oikawa blinks, straightens his shoulders. Then he wads up the topmost napkin of his stack, says, “Ushiwaka-chan, will you please throw this away for me on your way out. And these two cups too. Thanks.”

“No,” Ushijima says. “My hands are full.”

“Just this then,” Oikawa says.

He reaches up and grasps Ushijima’s right wrist. His fingers are less calloused than they were all those times they were forced to shake hands for official games. Just as strong and warm, however. The warmth travels to Ushijima’s face.

Oikawa tucks the crumpled napkin into Ushijima’s right hand. There is something written on the napkin. When Ushijima looks up, Oikawa gives him a quick, and perhaps sincere, smile.

***

Ushijima gets a chance to examine the napkin about five minutes after leaving the café. His aunt is in a perfume shop, the last stop before the shoe store, she promised. He takes the napkin out of his pocket and opens it up to read what Oikawa has written.

It is a very short message, Ushijima finds. The name of a university and a phone number, along with the words: _Don’t frown so much, Ushiwaka-chan. You’ll get premature wrinkles! Of course I’m still playing volleyball. Ask nicely, and I might toss to you one day._

“You look happy!” his aunt remarks as she steps out of the perfume shop. “Are you thinking about your shoes, Wakatoshi? I think I’ll buy you a pair of oxfords too. You’ll look so handsome and grown up in them!” She pats his back. “Wear them on your first day of class, okay?”

“Thanks for bringing me here, Oba-san,” he says.

“Of course, sweetheart. What’s that in your hand? Ooh, did a lovely young lady give you her phone number?”

Ushijima tucks the napkin back into his pocket. His aunt is laughing. “No,” he says.

He has received a far better gift than just a phone number. The message feels like a promise. He is glad that he ran into Oikawa today. The skin of his wrist is still tingling pleasantly. 

The feeling spreads to his fingers, and he curves them, imagines them fitting around a volleyball that has just left Oikawa’s hands. Imagines the ball sailing over the net, smashing into the opponents’ court. Imagines himself turning to look at Oikawa, who gives him a genuine smile. Nice serve, Ushijima is going to say.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
